


One Step Back, Where I Fall Into Your Arms

by variableIntroversion



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Bro is named Dante in this, Angst, Dirk is 18+, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Incest, M/M, Self Loathing, Sibling Incest, and Dirk loves him, non-graphic use of drugs, not the healthy kind, self worth issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 17:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21057998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variableIntroversion/pseuds/variableIntroversion
Summary: It wouldn't be entirely truthful to say he didn't mean to do it. He hadn'tplannedon doing it, that was the truth. But he wasn't completely un self-aware. He knew he had a choice when the option presented itself, and he knew he made the wrong one.He'd been doing so well. He had been doing so well, he could hear Dirk saying in the back of his mind, with such disappointment. Guilt burned white-hot in his chest, right along with the smoke, and he tried to suffocate it with another drag.





	One Step Back, Where I Fall Into Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grubbutts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grubbutts/gifts).

> I have very minimal knowledge of drug usage so any descriptions of such are vague *jazz hands*

It wouldn't be entirely truthful to say he didn't mean to do it. He hadn't _planned_ on doing it, that was the truth. But Dante wasn't completely un self-aware. He knew he had a choice when the option presented itself, and he knew he made the wrong one. Guilt burned white-hot in his chest, right along with the smoke, and he tried to suffocate it with another drag.

He hated that it worked. He hated that he wanted it to work. He hated himself for falling back down this slippery slope after so much effort spent on climbing it. He hated thinking about what Dirk would think if he could see him now.

He apologized into thin air, as if that would make it all better, and he breathed deeply. And then again. And again, until he forgot what hurting felt like.

He had never hated himself more than when he woke up hours later, hung over and aching from head to toe with shame. The guilt choked him like a noose and he curled in on himself in a pitiful attempt to hide from the world. He'd been doing so well. He had been doing so well, he could hear Dirk saying in the back of his mind, with such disappointment.

Oh fuck, _Dirk_. Dirk was going to be so mad with him. He was going to be angry, he was going to _hate_ him, he would run out of forgiveness for Dante's shortcomings sooner or later. Probably sooner. Probably as soon as he found out about this.

Unless he didn't. What if he didn't? What if Dante just didn't say anything? His little secret, his little ball of shame and failure tucked away in the back of The Past's closet. No harm, no foul. His little bro didn't have to find out and Dante could walk away from the whole incident and just say "lesson learned" to himself.

It was a foolproof plan.

Until he had to actually look Dirk in the eye again. Not that he could manage as much, even through both their shades. A week to get the guilt under control, and Dante could feel it crushing him alive the second he set foot back in their apartment. He wanted to run. Run far and fast until he collapsed into a hole and never climbed out. He wanted to vanish into thin air, break down into tiny molecules never to be seen again.

He didn't want to look at his little brother, so quietly eager to greet him as if everything was fine.

He couldn't.

Dirk stopped in his tracks when he realized something was off. There was a falseness to Dante's easy-going smile and a stiffness to his shoulders. Even through reflective shades, he could tell his older brother wasn't looking at him. There was no casual rush into his arms or flirty request for a kiss, not even an offered fist bump in greeting. Just a tired, tense "hey man" and hands tucked away in suit pockets.

One tell after the other that left Dirk feeling cold dread running through his chest. Had Dante slipped? He'd been doing so well, and he hadn't called. But that was no guarantee...

"You alright, bro?" Dirk tipped his head slightly, hoping that he was showing the right mix of concern and askance. Dante's Adam's apple visibly jumped with a hard swallow, and for a fraction of a second, he was the spitting image of a guilty dog that knew it had been caught.

"What? Yeah, of course! I'm fine, finer than fine, doing just great." The smile he flashed to Dirk was every bit the fake look Dante always hit reporters and interviewers with. The "So pretty that you'll blink and miss its insincerity" smile that the younger Strider had spent years identifying.

His eyebrow crept slowly over the angled edge of his shades. Dante fidgeted in place and didn't even try to hide the fact that he looking anywhere but his younger brother. The question felt like a cruelty on Dirk's lips, delivered so very quietly into the silence that hung between them.

"You didn't...take anything, did you?"

If there was ever an expression for heartbreak, it was the cocktail of guilt, helpless terror, and hopelessness that passed over Dante's face before he buried it in both hands. The following sob that tore through him nearly doubled the older Strider over. He sobbed again, just slightly less violently, and then he was sucking in a breath so sharply that the air stung the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry." Dante's whispered apology drowned in another breathy heave. "I'm so fucking- fucking sorry." He tried again, hoarse with the effort of speaking around the lump in his throat. He felt light-headed with the struggle of getting enough air into his lungs between sobs and apologies, and his hands clamped over his face weren't making things any easier. But he couldn't bring himself to look up. He couldn't bear to see the disgust he imagined was on Dirk's face right then. The disappointment.

And there _was_ disappointment. Dirk felt it like a punch to the gut, but that was nothing compared to the full-body jolt of concern over seeing his brother so vulnerable right then. Whatever reprimands Dirk had lined up for such an occasion, it was obvious that Dante had beaten him there and self-flagellated to an astronomical degree.

"Hey." Dirk said gently, taking a step forward. There was no change in his brother, so he crept closer until he could gather Dante up in his arms. "Hey, I'm not mad."

Another sob, this one out of sheer relief, burst out of Dante with that. He flung his arms around Dirk's waist and buried his face in the crook of the younger Strider's neck. The tears streaking his cheeks smeared against his brother's skin, but he felt no shame for them. No, he was too busy still being ashamed for other things. Things that he was still breathlessly trying to apologize for, whisper-wheezing "sorry"s against Dirk's collar bone until he was shushed.

"It's okay, you're okay. I'm glad you told me. Thank you for telling me. I'm proud of you for telling me. That's what you should do when you slip like this." Dirk pressed his lips to the top of Dante's head, soothing his fingers through the soft hair just inches away. A full-body shudder ran through the older man, but he nodded and seemed to manage a few deeper breaths. "Just breathe for now. Just like that, come on. I've got you."

Slowly, slowly, Dante began to do as he was told. He clung to Dirk and let himself be held as he inched out of the panic attack. He breathed in and out in tandem with the hand running along his back, swayed side to side with his brother until his head began to clear and the tears stopped flowing.

When Dirk took a step back, Dante took a step forwards to match. And then another, and another, blindly following the younger Strider's guidance until the side of his knee bumped the couch. Obediently, Dante let himself be pulled down until he was sitting. He tucked himself against Dirk's side, trying to keep his face hidden, but the angle was all wrong for it. His neck couldn't twist quite right or stretch that far, no matter how hard he tried.

And oh, he was trying. He was trying because despite everything, he was still afraid to look at Dirk's face. But afraid or not, there were hands cupping his cheeks that weren't his own, drawing him back until he was face to face with his brother. His brother, who leaned in to press a kiss so tender and sweet against his lips that he couldn't stop himself from melting right into it. His brother, clean and pure, who combed a hand through his hair and held him close as if he wasn't dirty, as if he wasn't tainted, as if he was worth something.

Tears welled up and overflowed again, silently this time, and Dante leaned harder into the contact. Dirk's thumbs gently swiped them away, followed closely by his mouth to butterfly-kiss the trails dry.

"I don't- I don't know what I did to deserve you." Dante whispered. His voice, soft as it was, shook like a leaf; shook like his hands as they slowly lifted to hold Dirk's head close.

"It's a long list. Comes in alphabetical and chronological order, take your pick. But for brevity's sake, we can shorten it down to "made me love you"." The corner of Dirk's mouth ticked up in a small, honest smile. Dante failed to hold back another tiny, happy sob before muffling himself with another kiss.

They were both smiling then, breathing in each other's air and sharing each other's space. Dirk slid his fingers through his brother's hair for the umpteenth time that night, reveling in the way it seemed to sap the tension out of Dante's shoulders and made him lean ever closer. Their bodies slotted together like two halves of an imperfect yet complete whole, arms wrapping around chests and legs tangling together.

Dirk was the one to ease them downwards, arranging things so that Dante lay boxed in between his brother and the back of the couch. Hands were pried free just long enough for their shades to be slipped off, set with care on the coffee table to be cleaned at a later date. And then they were back to holding each other, cradling and clinging respectively.

"We can talk about it more tomorrow." Dirk murmured. He felt Dante tense under his hands for a moment, then relax as he nodded against his chest.

"Okay... Okay. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Dirk agreed, pressing a warm kiss against his brother's forehead. "Love you, bro."

"I love you too. Fuck, I love you." Dante's arms tightened around Dirk's waist for a second, or maybe five, maybe thirty. Maybe many more, however many it took, until the emotional exhaustion and days of insomnia finally caught up with him.

Dirk smiled softly when he felt his brother go slack, still holding on even in his sleep, if loosely enough now that he could pull away if he wanted to. Not that he did. He was content to stay right where he was, rubbing flat-handed patterns against Dante's back until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep claimed him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> The art and inspiration for this fic are brought to you by https://grubbutts.tumblr.com/


End file.
